


The Living Bride

by f104



Category: Corpse Bride (2005)
Genre: Murder scene, but this is lord barkis so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 02:41:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16884111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f104/pseuds/f104
Summary: Emily had a life and a future before Barkis.





	The Living Bride

Emily was a sight to behold.

Dressed in her mother’s wedding gown under a heavy cloak, she silently slipped through the streets and out of town. She was a striking beauty. Too bad nobody but her love was going to see her. 

She didn’t feel guilty but for a moment. It was for her father… He’d certainly miss her. There would be no woman around the house anymore. But she was so terribly in love, and she couldn’t live with her father forever.

She was sure of it- she’d be happy now, with Barkis. Her one true love. She’d die before she loved anyone else, and she was sure of that too.  
Barkis was the one who held her future.

* * *

Emily’s mother was sick, very sick. Her father was quieter now, sensing her end was near. Emily had no concept of any sort of “end,” just that her mum may not be around much longer.

Only seven. She was much too young. (That was what she heard whispered by the ladies of the town, when her mother was brought up in conversation.)

But Emily’s mother kept on being cheerful, telling her to keep her chin up because it was no use feeling sorry. When she had those terrible coughing fits, she was “fine.” When she was too weak to stand, she told Emily not to worry. And then on the day she’d lost the strength to speak, she smiled at Emily before Father came in and took Emily away. Her hand slipped out of her mother’s as she was pulled away. She whipped around to get one last look at Mum, tired, pale, gaunt and yet still beautiful Mum, and then that was it.

They weren’t, well, rich, not by any means. But nobody really was, except the Everglots. And Father was rather important, though Emily wasn’t quite sure precisely what he did for a living.

But for all that, Mum couldn’t be saved.

Emily never saw her again.

* * *

A few years passed, and Emily, now just barely a teenager, was getting along fine. Everyone in the village liked her well enough, if she was a bit gloomy. No- she wasn’t disliked at all- that wasn’t the problem. Old ladies doted on her after church, at least the nice ones did. Boys pulled her braids and men smiled at her. Perhaps because she was quite literally the only girl living in the village. And because of that, she was bored. There were no companions for her, nobody to laugh with her in the afternoons and pick flowers with in the grove by the river. 

The flowers always grew as grey as the sky. She wondered why. But every once in a while, a marguerite daisy would pop up, its center as yellow as butter.

* * *

Emily was growing up to be quite the town beauty. Most everyone loved her, except Pastor Galswells (who didn’t count, since he didn’t love anybody). But she had come out of her shell to become just as commonly known for being a bit of a troublemaker. 

She was cheerful, too, and loud. You could simply say that she had developed big personality, and the rest followed. She loved passionately and hated furiously, and somehow most were willing to overlook her flaws because she was such great fun to be around. 

She was only seventeen, and the village boys were already falling in love with her. But she’d never love them back. She’d never be content with one of them. She wanted more.  
Barkis was much older. He entered the town and her life as a sorrowful widower who was down on his luck and had no one left to share his life with. It soon became clear that he was down on his cash, too, but by that time it was far too late. Emily had already fallen head over heels.

For the following months, they flirted within the fleeting privacy of various events around town, while no one was looking. It became evident that Barkis was just as smitten with Emily as she was with him, and with this revelation came a newfound confidence in her. She dropped hints like mad, as much as was allowed of a young lady in her position. A year passed of them getting to know each other, and Emily falling more and more in love with him. And finally, finally Barkis pulled her aside privately at the reception of someone else’s wedding, and Emily’s heart beat faster, and he leaned in close and said-

“I know how you feel for me. And Emily, darling, I feel the same way.”

Emily almost swooned, but Barkis was there to catch her.

“But-” and that was when her heart dropped- “you know your father doesn’t approve of me- of us.”

She looked at him, stricken. “I’m sure he must, he simply- oh, Barkis…”

“I’m sorry, Emily,” he said. “But that is why we cannot-”

“Barkis, I don’t care!” she exploded. “I don’t give a damn what he thinks- I love you, do you know that?”

“Oh, Emily.” He smiled softly and so lovingly, cupping her cheek. “Fiery Emily. I know, and I love you as well. That is why we cannot ever let your father know.”

Oh. 

Emily felt a giddy rush at the prospect of seeing Barkis behind Father’s back… and she liked the idea. For too long she’d been kept under lock and key by her father. But Barkis made her feel like a real lady. And she loved him so much she’d daydream about him, and sometimes her chest ached at simply the thought of him.  
The months flew by, at least that’s how it felt to Emily. Then came the anniversary of their meeting- had it been a year already? And Barkis took Emily’s delicate hand in his own as he knelt and asked her to be his, forever.

“My father will not approve,” she said shakily, getting over the shock of it.

Barkis’s expression turned despondent, and he opened his mouth to speak, to plead with her- but Emily’s finger, pressed over his lips, stopped him.

“And that is why,” she said, “we cannot ever let him know.”

* * *

She pulled her cloak more tightly around her and walked faster. The family gold and jewels weighed her down some, but she was almost to the meeting place. And it was worth it, for him. For Barkis, she’d walk around the earth and do it again. 

Fog settled over the landscape, giving the nearing woods an eerie, unsettling quality. She guessed it must have been around a quarter to three. She was ready, so ready, to be his…

There, the old oak tree where they would meet. She hurried to it and stood, shivering. 

And then… a man appeared in the mist. Something gleamed under the cover of his heavy coat.

Her heart beat so fast!

“Barkis?” she whispered. 

She heard low laughter, saw a shadow. A branch snapped under her foot- or under his? Her back hit the oak tree. 

“Please, you’re… you’re frightening me.”

The figure stepped into a shaft of moonlight. Barkis. He lifted something from under the coat.

A knife?

Emily didn’t have time to scream, because the hand that had held hers so many times was clamped firmly over her mouth. The blade went in quickly, silently. The jewels were snatched out of her hands and Barkis stabbed her another time, wrenching the knife upwards and oh God it felt like Emily was on fire- 

Barkis knelt, and it was in doing so that Emily realized she had fallen to the ground. “Oh, Emily,” he said, chuckling. He cupped her cheek as all she could do was stare, wide-eyed and helpless. Wiping the blade on his trousers, he stood and made his retreat.

A thin line of blood trickled out of Emily’s mouth. 

Wasn’t that knife her father’s? Had Barkis stolen it?

The pearl handle was quite lovely. 

Her father would miss her.

Emily closed her eyes.

* * *

Now she was in a dimly-lit room, a bar, filled with more colors than she’d encountered in her whole life. There was a strangely blue-tinted crowd gathering around her. A cook, a… waiter? At least, the top part of a waiter, because from Emily’s vantage point, it looked like he had no body. 

And then the head jumped onto the floor, and it really was just a head. Emily screamed, and this was met with a round of laughter.

She nearly jumped out of her skin as a reanimated skeleton approached her. 

“Name’s Bonejangles, miss,” it (he?) said, offering a hand.

She took it… reluctantly. 

“And you?” the skeleton asked. 

“Emily,” she replied, looking around the room. A skeleton dozed in the corner, a party-decomposed cook stirred a cauldron of something evil, and the head-waiter-thing scurried about. “What is this place?”

“This li’l joint’s called the Ball ‘n Socket,” Bonejangles told her. “Welcome to the Downstairs.”


End file.
